


Bite

by TheIskra



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, Edging, M/M, Marking, Office Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIskra/pseuds/TheIskra
Summary: A bit obsessed with the world of AU where Alec never dies, never betrays England. References the events of this: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25181020
Relationships: M | Gareth Mallory/Alec Trevelyan
Kudos: 18





	Bite

“Fucking HELL,” he snaps as the door closes and the red light shifts from blinking to solid. “Moneypenny,” he says through the intercom. “Cancel my meeting with Tanner and reschedule for tomorrow. I need to clean up this bloody mess.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rather than doing the petty and melodramatic clearing his desk of files, he turns and walks to the window. “Must everything be a bloody fight?”

A voice behind him is smooth and clear. “You know the answer to that. The Americans are forever behaving as though we work for them.”

“Do me a favor, will you? Shut up and --,” he’s stopped when lips graze against his nape.

“I’ve been itching to be bent over that desk and fucked properly. You’ll be calmer for your next meeting and I’ll be aching in my flat waiting for the next go,” the voice murmurs, fingers moving around to his zipper.

“I don’t have the bloody time for this,” he snaps, trying to slap the hand away but it’s too late. His cock is exposed, hand pulling on him, lips on his ear.

“Gareth… you can’t go into this distracted.”

There’s another pull and then the hand is gone. When he turns, files are gently being compiled and set in stacks on the floor next to his desk. Dark blue pinstriped trousers pulled down over a thick, muscular ass, black turtleneck pulled off and thrown on the floor, exposing scars and marks from years of service against smooth, tanned skin. He’s not stupid, he knows damn well he shouldn’t… here. But he is wound too tightly, too quick to anger and that never benefits him in this job. He steps closer and observes the reddish dark blonde hair, the tanned skin, the faint scars, the line of the spine, the curve of the ass. Running his fingers slowly over the man’s spine, he knows he doesn’t have anything here that will enable him to do much. He’s not going to keep a bottle of bloody lube in his desk.

There’s something so sordid about this… profane and dangerous. “When I’m finished, you’re going to drink everything that I have, understand? You will not leave a drop.”

The response is the body arching like a cat, spine pressing more against his fingertips until he pulls back and spanks hard. The mark is quick, pinkening and making his cock ache. “I’m not going to fuck you, my darling. Not here, not now. But we’ll both get what we need.”

He rears back his hand again and slaps harder. The moan this time is louder, the body against his desk readjusting. He wishes he was back in his old office… a stodgy place that was smaller and jammed with books and never seen by anyone outside of himself and his secretary, an old woman he didn’t have the balls to fire despite her ineptitude. The things he could do there, unencumbered by attention… he missed those days.

He reaches to the shoulders blades and leans over, his cock pressing against the warm skin underneath him. He loves the taste of skin like this, warm and fragrant from hours bound up in clothing. The scent of soap barely perceptible, just skin, just him. He kisses and licks down the spine until he’s on his knees, tongue moving over the indentations at the base of the spine.

“You choose now to tease me like this, you cunt,” the voice growls.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, hands grabbing and spreading the man, exposing him. He inhales, leans in and licks. He remembers the first time this was done to him… he fell apart so quickly that in a moment, he knew this act would be strangely sacred. This is something he only will do with someone he trusts, someone he wants to give pleasure to.

“I swear to god, Gareth if you don’t--.”

His face retracts and he sinks his teeth into the thick skin. He bites until there’s the tightening of muscles, the resistance under the skin. He reaches down to pull on his cock as he bites, then licks at the mark. “Yes,” he hears, in a soft hiss. He bites again, same place and then sucks until he gets a kick to his thigh. The mark is beautiful but dark. In a moment, he realizes he’s marked this man who has so many scars and wounds. It’s momentary guilt. “I left a mark,” he says, running his thumb over the darkened skin. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a chuckle and a hand reaching back to touch his cheek. “Wasn’t the first and won’t be the last. Don’t apologize. However….I’m going to make you pay for that later.”

He parts the flesh again and licks until the man is squirming. “Turn around,” he says.

Gareth looks up and opens his mouth. There’s a soft chuckle and a cock is pressed against his lower lip. The taste of this skin, the scent of pubic hair and soap and arousal is what he needs. He lets it drop, leaning in to taste the hair, memorizing it once again… as he always does. Fingers thread through his hair and pull back. He looks up and opens his mouth. “Go on then,” he breathes.

The irony of this… of being on his knees in his own office while his mouth is being fucked by a former agent. How improper and absolutely out of line but…. He did have an agent on his knees under this very desk with a letter opener shoved inside of him less than a year ago _. Christ_ , he thinks. _I’m a right bloody pervert._

It's not long before the man is close and pulls back. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Gareth warns.

The man meets his eyes and smiles. “Think of it this way…. When you come over later, I’ll be even more ready for it. Now sit in the chair.”

He’s done this before… withheld his own pleasure. It makes Gareth insane. WHY would you do such a thing? But then, he’s never been one to not indulge when he needs it. He takes the man’s hand and stands. His knees aching. Clearly he’s not a young man but every time he’s reminded, it pisses him off a little more.

When he sits, he realizes again how absurd he looks. Full suit, buttoned up with his cock out, hard and dripping. He at least had the forethought to lean just enough to make sure he didn’t sully his trousers. The man in front of him pulls his sweater back on and tucks himself back into his pulled up trousers. They tent instantly. “Sure you’re going to be okay,” he says with a tiny smile.

“Gareth, keep talking and I’ll bend you over this desk myself and tell Moneypenny to watch.”

That is the very LAST thing he wants. He’s not like this man. He doesn’t veer towards giving a show. There is nothing about him whatsoever that stands out. He is such a stereotypical middle-aged Englishman that he can get lost in the shuffle. It’s what made him an exceptional officer, an even better bureaucrat. “Fine.”

He’s made quick work of… as it’s always been. The moment _this_ happens, he’s not able to hold on. He thinks back to vague memories of being in the stone cell, the bitter taste under his tongue, the dulling of pain and heightened sensations, and of _this_ mouth doing exactly this to him. Then again when he was barely in this role and tracked the man down. They ended up talking for hours and ended up in bed, this time two men in middle age, less inclined to dramatics.

“Alec,” he breathes as he feels his balls tighten, the release rising up quickly. “Christ,” he says as it hits him like an adrenaline rush. “Ah fuck,” he murmurs, grabbing the man’s hair and pulling it even closer, making him take all of him. “Not a drop,” he says, lightheaded and mildly stoned from the orgasm.

There’s a chuckle that vibrates around him and he almost yells. He’s cleaned and tucked back in. “Good as new. Feel better now?”

“Shut up,” he says but there’s no weight to it. “I have so much to do,” he says, sighing.

The man stands and runs a hand over his hair, over his jaw and his bottom lip. “Now you look presentable. Dinner at mine tonight. Do not make me wait.”

He takes a long breath. “Thank you.”

“Bite me again and I’ll kick your arse, Mallory.”

He watches as Alec Trevelyan straightens himself up and walks to the door. 


End file.
